


ghosts that we knew

by pneumatics



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst and Feels, F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, big WHAT IF, he's alive??????
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-04-19 11:05:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14235918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pneumatics/pseuds/pneumatics
Summary: He is back. He is back and they are irreparably apart.





	ghosts that we knew

It's January 1, 2036, and Artemis thinks that her hate for New Year’s Day shouldn't be getting stronger; yet here she is, scowling at her boots as the League cheers and whoops excitedly. Twenty years ago, she might have joined them; but then again, a lot has changed in twenty years. Twenty years ago, she had Wally.

.

Artemis leans against the wall and closes her eyes, thinking of a time when midnight was when dreams came true and stupid boys _finally_ kissed stupid girls. Life was so much easier when she was fifteen, she thinks, when all she had to worry about was villains and Wally West’s smile.

It should be easier now at forty years old, enough experience under her belt. It should be second nature, notching that arrow and letting it fly - and it is. It is. It's something she hasn't let go of since she picked up her bow, but part of her is still at the dinner table with Wally and their dog. Part of her is still wide-eyed and twenty, thinking that the hero life was just something they could walk away from _together_. Unscathed.

But that was then.

In the years that have passed, Artemis has picked up the pieces of her heart, and has held them together as tightly as she can. She’s dated a few people here and there, and she smiles when they call her beautiful. She’s laced up her boots and shouted commands into her comm because she loves the adrenaline of a fight. She has a family of her own in the League. There are adoption papers that are _pending_. She doesn’t need to _remember_ him, but she does - every day. Because her last days of true happiness reside with a memory of soft red hair, and a wild smile, and she _needs_ that.

She needs him.

.

Her comm crackles in her ear and she furrows her brows, reaching a hand up to touch it.

“ _STAR Labs, STAR Labs_ ,” the voice on the feed repeats urgently, then cuts out. It sounds like Barry, but Barry is with them, he’s -

Not here.

Confused, she looks over to Dick, whose finger is also on his comm.

“We need to go,” he says. His face is pale under his mask. He knows something she doesn’t.

“Dick -”

“ _Now!”_

Her stomach drops for a reason she can’t name as she runs after him.

So now they’re at STAR Labs. They’re at STAR Labs and everyone is running around and _no one_ will tell her what’s going on. Dick disappeared into a room as soon as they reached, and Barry is shouting - yelling incomprehensible terms at frazzled lab assistants. Confetti and glitter lay forgotten on the floor, the remnants of a New Year’s celebration. The air is humming with a familiar energy. Like lightning.

She can’t breathe.

Particles, solid particles are forming bonds in front of her eyes. And everything fades to white noise in the background as she sinks to the floor and watches.

“Art,” she hears, and it sounds like Dick and it feels like his hand on her shoulder so she doesn’t respond because she needs this. In her periphery, she sees him cross his legs on the floor next to her.

They wait and they watch. It takes over an hour for her to figure out an inkling of what is happening and even then she is confused. Because in front of her eyes is the shape of a human, and she thinks she’s dreaming because she’s had this dream every day - every damn day - for twenty years.

Wally West collapses on the ground as fresh and young as he was when he died. And maybe there are people cheering because this is a joyful moment but she is screaming and it’s a savage sound tearing from her chest. Dick is a wordless pillar holding her up, his jaw slackened by shock. She thinks maybe she’s imagining it, because she can’t see him anymore, not through the cluster of lab coats.

But then she hears him, and it’s inhumane because her lips can only form the vowels of his name but no sound passes. So she screams again, because it’s the only thing she can bring herself to do and she just needs to hear it. The crowd splits because her voice has that sort of power, and she’s stumbling towards the gap and _he’s_ on the ground. The room has gone closer to silent, save for the hum of the reactor in the background. Her breath catches and echoes to the ceiling and back down again - to him.

“How long?” Wally asks no one in particular, but his eyes are locked onto her and it wrenches another sob through her body. Lab workers holding blankets and clipboards move towards him but he holds his hand in the air. His eyes are still on hers, citing the new hair, the new suit, the wrinkles around her eyes. Artemis looks at him, really looks at him, and tries to breathe.

“Twenty years,” she whispers and she would do anything to wipe the look off his face. His brows furrow impossibly and then he looks next to her, looks at Dick with his newly scarred mouth and scruff and it _hurts so much_. Because Wally’s skin is smooth, untouched by time, and there are things snapping in Artemis’ chest, things that make her want to vomit. She’s old enough to be his mother, goddammit, and his own mother didn’t live to see her son again. Wally cracks a weak smile.

“You haven’t aged a day,” and Artemis lets out a tearful laugh because this is hell but he is here.

“I have,” she says, taking a shaking step forward, “but you -”

Wally shushes her and falls into her arms and the world is so cruel to think that bringing him back like this is okay.   

.

A week later, and he’s standing in the kitchen of their old house fingering the tassels of the ugly tablecloth they bought back when money was tight and dollar stores were the holy grail. Artemis has a cup of coffee cradled to her chest as she watches him. It’s a moment out of a dream, the first she’s seen of him outside of the lab.  

“I’m sorry,” his voice breaks, and those are the only words he says nowadays. He turns to look at her and it is haunting, because he’s only a ghost now. She has lived a life, and he has been stuck in time. The grief builds in her throat like bile, and she swallows it with the practice of habit.

“You just couldn’t accept that I was finally getting over you.” she smirks, and it’s more of a mistake because they _can’t_. Not like this. Wally laughs though, because he understands that and doesn’t care.

“They’re transferring me back to isolation,” he says, walking to sit next to her. “All this time is bound to catch up to me eventually.” Artemis takes a sip and watches him over the rim of the mug. His hands twitch at his sides. They haven’t held her in so long.

“At once?” she asks and he shrugs. “Maybe we could have a chance -”

“Maybe I could die,” he says quietly. “I don’t think you should get your hopes up.” Artemis purses her lips in a tight smile. She’s better than this. She’s a goddamn adult now.

“You’re already dead,” and it’s tired, the way it falls from her mouth. Wally nods slowly, runs a hand over her cheek. It hurts.

“I can’t ask you to keep waiting for me.”

 _I’ve been waiting for you all this time_ , she thinks. It’s the unspoken truth that runs between them.  

“I loved you,” she says. _I still love you._

“I came back for you,” Wally smiles. “I’m sorry we’re out of time.” Artemis resists the urge to scream again.

“It’s not your fault,” she says, the lie grating on her throat. Wally looks at her hard, and she notices the shadows under his eyes. He leans in until she can feel the warm tingle of his breath on her lips, and her hand automatically reaches over into his hair. They sit, with their foreheads pressed against each other for seconds, minutes, hours, _years_. The air is filled with _almost_ and such an unforgiving hatred at the past, and that’s when she knows that it’s impossible for this to work.  

“It is,” he finally says. “I’m sorry.”

She throws her mug at the trail of blue he leaves behind and watches it shatter against the wall.

And then she starts to cry.

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from mumford and sons.  
> i found this in the drafts. i really loved this show and these two and just deal with it.


End file.
